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For several years in the early 1980s, Halloween got a whole lot scarier. Parents in Dallas and across the country weren't looking out for ghosts or goblins — they were looking out for cyanide and razor blades hidden in Tootsie Rolls and Spree.

Their concern wasn't totally unfounded. In late September 1982, an unknown individual laced Tylenol pain relievers with potassium cyanide, resulting in the deaths of seven people in the Chicago area. Parents began to worry that candy could be tampered with in a similar way. Rumors and reports of painful foreign objects added to the anxiety.

Many cities across the country banned trick-or-treating in an attempt to protect children from potential injury. But in Dallas, police spokesman Ed Spencer told The News that he "didn't see how we could do that." Another spokesman, Bob Shaw, noted that "traditions die hard."

Area radiology departments stayed open late on Halloween night to x-ray children's candy to check for foreign objects.

Even without an outright ban, parents and community members across Dallas did what they could to keep their kids off the streets and out of strangers' candy bowls on Halloween night.

In the lead up to Halloween, some school officials, including the principal of Mark Twain Elementary School, told The News that his staff planned to "encourage our children not to go trick-or-treating this year." Recreation centers and churches offered children's parties designed to provide a safe (and easily supervised) alternative.

Despite the risks, many parents were reluctant to forbid trick-or-treating.

"This [contamination] is just devastating for the children," said Roberta Williford, mother of 7-year-old Anne. "We can't let the perverts ruin everything.

Instead, Williford told her daughter that the kindly "Candy Witch" was coming to Dallas. "Once a child finishes trick-or-treating, he or she leaves the bag of goodies on the front porch," The News explained. "If the treats aren't safe, the Candy Witch takes them and, in exchange, leaves the child a gift."

Other parents chose to put their kids' candy in the hands of science. Across DFW, hospital radiology stayed open late into the evening, offering to scan children's candy free of charge. Hospitals like Plano General offered parties for children and families waiting for the all-clear on their candy. Other families opted to leave the treats overnight and wait for the results the following morning.

While there were no reported poisonings, Halloween 1982 in Dallas wasn't without incident. A northeast Dallas mother reported slicing open an candy bar and finding a needle inside. Citizens from Oak Cliff and Pleasant Grove reported similar discoveries.

Reflecting on this, a Dallas Parks and Recreation spokeswoman summed up the feelings of parents, children, educators and citizens across the country when she said simply: "Hasn't Halloween become a sad thing?"

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